


Getting Awfully Important

by snowballjane (spycandy)



Category: White Boots - Noel Streatfeild
Genre: Gen, Ice Skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-22
Updated: 2011-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spycandy/pseuds/snowballjane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harriet and Lalla make it to the World Championships... eventually</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Awfully Important

_your chances of becoming a champion skater are much less than one in a thousand_

“Well, we finally made it,” said Lalla, leaning against the boards and gazing out across the sparkling smooth surface of the rink.

Harriet laughed and they were close enough to the ice that her breath formed a small white puff in the cold air. “The World Championships. I wonder what your Aunt Claudia would have to say.”

“It's about time you showed up here Lalla Moore!” Lalla still had a gift for mimickry and her imitation was so accurate that it gave Harriet chills, as though the woman's ghost had just joined them at the side of the rink. Her stomach sank. Lalla might joke, but she really shouldn't have mentioned Claudia King at a time like this.

“I'm sorry, I didn't think...”

“Oh don't look so stricken. I've been thinking about her all day anyway. Every time I see someone jump a triple in practice, I keep hearing “her square-turned joints, and strength of limb”. There certainly are some champions grim here this year.”

Behind them, the stadium was filling up with excited fans, laden with flags and flowers ready to throw to their favourites. The rink speakers buzzed to life and began piping bland but loud musak into the cavernous space.

“I'd better go,” shouted Lalla over the din. “A coach's work is never done and my skater will be freaking out by now. See you later, yes?”

Harriet held up both hands, thumbs tucked inside her fists, and grinned, before heading for the hospitality suite to greet her fellow sponsors.

 _You must just wear your usual skirt and jersey_

 **Thirty years earlier**

There were just three weeks left. Three weeks to perfect her flying camel spin. Three weeks of getting up at five in the morning. Three weeks of hearing that same piece of music over and over again. Three weeks until Nationals. Perhaps just three weeks left of the fairytale.

Both Harriet and Lalla were entered as senior ladies at Nationals, for the first, and possibly last, time. They had placed well in junior competitions, although Harriet remained strongest in figures and Lalla in free skating. If only they could be combined into one girl, Max sometimes said, they would be unbeatable. As it was, there was likely to be a strong field and they would have to work hard to do well at all.

If either of them won, or even came second, then they would be off to Europeans, and maybe after that the World Championships. But Lalla was already starting to try for the kind of professional engagements that would put an end to her competitive skating for good and Harriet knew she had to think about her own future because no one would fund her to train forever.

“Those two skirts sold within a couple of days,” she told Lalla, as the pair of them were lacing up their boots before an early morning practice session. “Toby thinks I should make some more.”

Harriet had been making her own skating outfits for a couple of years, inventing her own patterns and using Olivia's battered old sewing machine. When she had bought the fabric for the last dress it had been on a good sale price, so she bought extra material and made two spare practice skirts, then put up a card on the rink's noticeboard.

“You Johnsons and your money making schemes!” laughed Lalla. “I thought the shop was doing well now.”

“It is, but it's past time I did my bit. It's years and years since I was ill and I want the family to know I can contribute something besides skating. Anyway, I like designing skating dresses – and it's better than growing cabbages.”

“You could do tennis dresses too,” said Lalla, glancing up from a hamstring stretch. “Aunt Claudia's friends are all playing this year. They're no good at all, but they spend a fortune on the outfits. Come on, Max is waiting to shout at us.”

Half an hour later, Harriet was thinking so hard about hemlines that she barely noticed when she achieved a perfectly centred flying camel.

 _it might be her who's a champion grim_

Harriet was still in a daze as she bowed her head, hardly able to believe that she was really there. When she straightened up, the stiff new ribbon made the back of her neck itch. She accepted a posy of pink flowers from a fur-coated woman with a polite “thank you ma'am” and smiled as prettily as she could manage while a great many cameras flashed at the trio of girls standing on the podium.

This was it. This was the end result of five years of hard work, of endlessly tracing figures and of thousands of revolutions of spins. And, however unusual and cobbled together and piggy-backed onto Lalla's perceived destiny her training had been, it was also the result of a lot of teaching and spending and support from her family and friends.

There they were in the audience, she noticed. Five Johnsons wildly applauding their girl's success. Max beaming with pride. Lalla was right by the boards, wearing an eye-catching black and silver skating dress, jumping up and down and cheering for all she was worth, despite her own obvious disappointment.

Tears brimmed in Harriet's eyes. She felt torn in two – of course a medal at Nationals, even a bronze one, was an absolutely terrific achievement. But that was what her head knew – in her heart she had secretly dreamed of winning the gold, not for the victory itself, but because it would mean this glorious life could carry on just a little longer.

She drew a deep breath, trying to muster some of her mother's eternal resilience and good cheer in the face of difficulty and disappointment. There was nothing to be done for it and at least she had the beginnings of an idea of what she was going to do next.

After what seemed like a very long time standing under the gaze of so many people, she was finally allowed to step back down onto the ice and she stroked over to her friend, conscious that for all Lalla's stated plans to be a show skater rather than a champion, she had spent her entire childhood dreaming of medals.

“Oh Lalla,” said Harriet once they had a moment's privacy in the changing rooms. “Never mind, I'm sure you'll do better next year.”

“I don't think so,” said Lalla. Harriet opened her mouth to protest that she couldn't possibly mean to give up just because of one nasty fall in competition, but Lalla didn't look sad and defeated. In fact, she had that mad-doggish look that meant something new and exciting.

“I won't be able to compete next year, because Holiday on Ice doesn't have an exemption.”

“Holiday on Ice!” squeaked Harriet. “You passed the audition?”

“Well of course I did, silly, I'm Lalla Moore,” said Lalla grandly. But Harriet knew that her friend must be thrilled and relieved to be joining one of the world's top ice shows. Lalla's future would hold big audiences, gorgeous costumes and most importantly of all, lots and lots of skating. And hers wouldn't. It was a hard thing to do, but the new bronze medallist threw her arms around her friend.

“Congratulations!” said Harriet, “Oh, I'm so glad.”

 _she certainly seems to be a wonderful teacher_

 **Ten years later**

As soon as she heard the crackling on the line, Harriet knew who the international call must be from. She flipped the order book closed and gave the call her full attention. “Where are you this week then?”

“Vienna. It's just as gorgeous here as always.” Harriet pictured the glamorous skater eating sachertorte in a pavement cafe and shopping for elegant European accessories with a twinge of envy. “Can you come to Paris in November?” went on Lalla. “I want to send you tickets for my last ever show.”

“You're quitting?”

“I can't live out of a suitcase forever you know. Anyway, I've got a plan – although I could do with some Johnsons to look it over and tell me whether it will pay. I'm going to coach.”

“That sounds like a lovely idea, I bet you'll be brilliant at it. I remember you starting me off. I was so scared and you just took my hands and told me I could do it,” said Harriet, the memory bright and vivid. “But I don't think the money's very good at first.”

“Well, the Holiday on Ice money keeps me in hats and coats, so I've barely touched my inheritance yet. Of course I'll have to start with terrible beginners, but I've already been doing some choreography for the shows, so I might be able to attract potential champions eventually. Oh! But you've let me run on and on. How are you? How's the sportswear empire?”

“Busy!” said Harriet. “We've just opened a fifth shop. And I've got an order from Lillywhites on Piccadilly.”

The phone started to beep. “Drat,” said Lalla, “I've run out of schillings. See you in Paris then! Bring your skates!”

Bring her skates indeed. They were probably more rusty than her own skating skills. It must be more than three years since she'd last even been to an ice rink, she'd been so caught up with the business and her hectic life.

 _ought only to have friends who talk about skating_

 **The World Figure Skating Championships**

“Congratulations! Ninth after the short programme, that's pretty good,” said Harriet, handing her oldest friend a glass of white wine and sinking into one of the purple velvet bar seats. “How's Katy coping with it all?”

“She's a good kid, she's focussed on doing her best and knows no one expects a podium finish from her... well no one but herself, you know how it is. Top ten would be great for NISA, of course.”

The pair settled down for a comfortable chat about the day's skating performances before catching up on family gossip. But they inevitably drifted back to talking about skating again.

“Have you got your skates with you?” asked Lalla.

“Of course I have! Remember Paris?” The pair laughed at the memory of Harriet wobbling back onto the ice, horrified at how cotton-woollish her legs had become. “I've never let myself go that long without skating ever again. It took me ages to get that paragraph loop back.”

“You know Harriet, I can't think of any other skater who'd bother about such a nasty fiddly move when they'd lost their jumps!”

“Well, I don't jump much at all now, but social dance club and a couple of early morning patch sessions before work every week still keep me in shape. I didn't think there'd be much chance of skating here, but I don't get to skate with you nearly often enough, so I shoved my skates into the suitcase on the off-chance.”

“Come on then. Most of the kids will have gone for an early night by now, so the practice rink should be quiet.”

 _free skating for ever and ever_

The pairs team from Finland were struggling with a complicated lift as Harriet and Lalla pushed open the big glass doors into the rink. This was the warm-up rink, where the elite skaters spent the day trying to gain that one extra decimal point of perfection, or trying to psych out the competition with a huge triple Lutz, before stepping out into the neighbouring competitive arena.

Lalla went to charm the rink staff into 'letting two old dears' onto the ice, and they quickly agreed that it would be wise to indulge the whim of the managing director of one of the event's major sponsors. The two women warmed up quickly and tied on their scratched and battered white boots.

Out on the ice they stroked around side by side for a few laps, simply enjoying the familiar combined sensations of speed, balance and cold air. Lalla eventually broke into a huge outside edge spreadeagle and Harriet paused to marvel at her turn-out. She was still just as flexible as a teenager.

Not to be outdone, the businesswoman improvised a quick and complicated serpentine step sequence. Soon they were circling each other, sure-footed and elegant, with girlish enthusiasm.

A lot of years had passed and a lot of things had changed since they were two little girls on the ice. But through all the challenges, through their busy and demanding professional careers, through family tragedies and celebrations, through all the ups and downs of other relationships, two things had always been there: skating and friendship.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2008 Femgenficathon


End file.
